The Director's Visit
by Singing Violin
Summary: The Director of the FBI comes to visit the XFiles division but Scully has a little problem.


Title: The Director's Visit  
Author: Singing Violin  
Rating: K+  
Timeline: during Season 3  
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST  
Summary: The Director of the FBI comes to visit the X-Files division but Scully has a little problem.  
Disclaimer: This isn't the most illegal thing I've done. Did I say that? Well, it's not like Mulder and Scully exactly play by the rules either...Chris Carter owns them and he's setting a bad example by setting them up as role models for me, so hopefully he'll understand that I need to borrow them without permission for a little while.  
Archiving: Already archived in Gossamer under a different author name (Pearl) but that name was taken here so I got another one. Feel free to post anywhere.  
Feedback: yes please!

Scully awoke to a loud annoying noise, which she belatedly realized was her alarm clock. Her head was pounding, and she felt as if she'd just fallen asleep. However, the clock read six thirty, so she knew it was morning. Feeling terrible, she was about to call in sick when she realized today was the day the Director was coming to validate their division. It had been more than a year since the X-Files had been reopened, and Director Freeh had asked to be briefed on the activities of the division. Ah, well, she would probably feel better in a few hours. After all, it could just be lack of sleep, considering how late she and Mulder were up preparing for their meeting. And the queasy feeling in her stomach could just be nerves.

She forced herself to eat a small breakfast of plain toast and grapefruit juice, and then downed two brand-X headache pills she had been sent as a free sample from some pharmaceutical company that didn't realize she would have no reason to feed medicine to her patients, considering they were already dead. In fact, as a doctor, she often received free samples in the mail, and, after verifying that the active ingredients were safe and useful, she stored them away for her own personal use, or, more frequently, for Mulder.

Dragging herself to her car, she groaned, hoping that the medicine would kick in soon. She needed to be in tip-top shape for the presentation, which was now in less than three hours.

When Scully arrived at the office, Mulder was already there, organizing slides and transparencies. "Hey Scully, I thought I was going to have to do the presentation without you," he admonished, without looking up.

When his partner didn't answer, but simply hung up her coat and sat down, he finally looked over at her, and was presented with the sight of her with her head in her hands, rubbing her temples.

"Hey Scully, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Mulder. Just a little tired."

"Oh, that's cool," he responded with a smile. "You want to take a nap or something? There's some space here under the desk."

Lifting her head, she shot him a withering look. "Let's just make sure we're all ready, shall we?"

"Actually, Scully, Skinner just called. He wants to brief us before we brief the director. I think he wants to give us the 'no aliens' speech again. In any case, we're due in his office in about an hour."

An hour later, after they had discussed a bit between themselves, Mulder got up, gathering papers and slides. He looked over at her, and said, "you coming?"

"Yeah, Mulder. Hold on a sec."

Together, they headed up to their boss's office, she trying desperately not to let on how uncomfortable she really was, and he posessively guiding her with his hand on her back, the other hand holding a box full of presentation materials.

"Good morning, Agents," Skinner greeted them. "Sit down. I want to know what you are preparing for the Director, and I might want you to modify it. Is that clear?"

The agents nodded, as they sat down next to each other in front of his desk. Mulder did most of the explaining, which was good for Scully, who was becoming increasingly restless and wondering if she could make it through this meeting without collapsing. She glanced down at her watch, and realized with horror that it had only been ten minutes so far. It was going to be a long day.

"Scully? You with me?" The sound of Mulder's voice broke her reverie, and she wondered briefly how long she had been daydreaming.

"Uh, yeah," she said, color rising in her cheeks.

"Wanna explain the autopsy results from this case?"

"Yeah, sure." She slowly got up and went over to the screen. Mulder was about to hand her the pointer, when she suddenly realized how nauseous she was, and that she was probably about to be sick.

"Excuse me," she muttered, and tried to make her way to the door as the world mercilessly spun around her. Suddenly she was falling, and as she felt Mulder's arms go around her and catch her, she began to gag. Then she was on her knees, retching into Skinner's trashcan. She briefly wondered how that object had managed to appear in front of her so quickly.

Mulder shot a helpless, pleading look towards his boss, as he held his ill partner in one hand and the wastebasket in the other. Skinner was looking away, somewhat disgusted and shocked by the sight and sound of one of his agents vomiting.

When she was done, she looked up at the man who was holding her. Her complexion, which a few moments ago had been awfully green, had turned bright red with embarrassment and shame. Tears trickled unheeded down her face, feeling especially cold as they evaporated. She realized she must be feverish.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm so sorry." After wiping her mouth with a tissue that Skinner handed her, she turned around towards Mulder and buried her face in his chest.

"It's okay, Scully. It's okay," he said as he stroked her hair. "At least you didn't get it on any Japanese ambassadors." She would have laughed at that, if she hadn't felt so terrible.

Skinner then cleared his throat, reminding his agents of his presence in the room.

"Umm, Sir," Agent Mulder stated reluctantly, looking up but not letting go of his redheaded partner, "I don't think Agent Scully is well enough to be giving this presentation today."

"No shit, Sherlock," Skinner grumbled.

"I'll take her home."

"You don't have time, Agent Mulder. You're due to meet the director in about an hour."

"Well, we'll reschedule the meeting."

"You can't. He's booked for the next three months." Skinner was visibly upset, and took a deep breath before making his suggestion.

"Why don't you and I do the presentation, Agent Mulder? Agent Scully can stay here and lie down on my couch. Kim won't let anyone into the office while I'm downstairs."

Mulder was about to worry that Scully had passed out, given how she hadn't objected to being talked about in the third person for the last few minutes, but as he looked down at her, he saw her turn her head towards Skinner. She murmured, "Thank you, sir."

Having put down the trashcan, Mulder took his free arm and snaked it underneath Scully's knees, gently lifting her in his arms and depositing her on Skinner's couch. He stroked her brow, pushing back an errant strand of orange hair and tucking it behind her ear.

"Scully, you're so warm," he said worriedly, noting not only the heat radiating from her forehead, but that the wetness on her face was not just tears.

"I know, Mulder," she whispered hoarsely. "I have a fever. I'll be fine in a day or two." Mulder smiled to himself, marveling at how Scully was always trying to reassure him, even when it was she who was very sick.

Half an hour later she was alone in Skinner's office, having been instructed not to get up and not to answer the phone. The garbage pail had been placed beside the couch "just in case." Lying down, she felt quite a bit better, and almost deluded herself into getting up and trekking downstairs to rejoin her partner. However, the thought of accidentally throwing up all over the Director persuaded her to stay where she was, although she was too nervous to sleep, and a little bored as a result.

She was startled by the sound of the door opening, and tried to sit up in anticipation of one of her superiors entering the room. She contemplated how she was going to explain being alone on Skinner's couch. However, the figure which emerged before her placed a hand on her shoulder, easing her back down onto the couch, "It's okay Scully," Mulder said, "It's just me. Lie back down for a bit."

"I thought you were busy preparing to present with Skinner."

"Yeah, well, he got tired of me and kicked me out." That earned him a wan smile.

"You can be pretty annoying sometimes."

"Watch it, woman, or I'll stop being so nice," he replied, jokingly. Then, he turned serious, "I came to check to see if you needed anything." He touched her arm lightly.

"Oh," she said, suddenly struck by how caring this man could be. She'd only been given this level of attention by him a few times before. "No, Mulder. I'm fine."

"Can I take you home then?"

"But you have to present for the director!"

"Naw, he called and cancelled. Seems an emergency pizza situation arose, and he's the man." He winked, and Scully's eyes widened.

"You can't be serious," she stated, thinking he was sending the Director to an early pizza lunch.

"Absolutely serious. Apparently some of the 'Pizza Connection' mob leaders have recently gotten out of prison, and some Deputy Director needs to be briefed so he can advise the local law enforcement and field agents to watch out for the stirrings of a new crime ring."

"Then where's Skinner?"

"Oh, he was waiting outside because I asked for a moment alone with you. I think he's flirting with Kim, actually."

"Mulder!" she admonished.

His hand brushed her hair from her forehead again. "Come on, Scully. Let's go." He handed her the coat that he had rescued from the basement office where she had left it, and she put it on, suddenly cold and grateful for the extra layer.

She groaned as she got up, and realized she was shaking. Mulder put his arm around her waist in order to support her. "You think you can make it downstairs, Scully?" She nodded uncertainly. He understood her need not to be seen in the FBI hallways being carried by her partner. Discreetly, he supported her all the way to the garage, and only when he was sure there were no other agents around, and she was sure that she was about to collapse, did he sweep her up into his arms and carry her to his car.

Mercifully, she fell asleep on the way home, and awoke to Mulder ever-so-gently shaking her shoulder. "Wake up, Scully."

She was cold, and curled up into a ball, trapping Mulder's thumb between her shoulder and knee. Extracting it, he carefully undid her seatbelt and lifted her out of the car. Groggily, she mumbled something incoherent and then put her head down on his shoulder.

Using his key, he entered her apartment and deposited her on her bed. After closing the door, he made his way to the bathroom, where he found a thermometer. Back in the bedroom, he tried to get Scully to awaken, if only for a few moments. Her eyes opened partway and he started talking to her. "Open up, Scully. I'm gonna take your temperature."

"Practicing medicine without a license, Mulder?" Scully mumbled, half conscious. As she spoke, he popped the thermometer into her mouth under her tongue. When it finished beeping, he pulled it out, only to have Scully moan in terror as she opened her mouth.

Realizing what was about to occur, he picked her up and ferried her to the bathroom, where she vomited again in the toilet before falling back against him. She was too drained to have an emotional reaction this time, so her eyes were dry, but she felt very weak.

"Feel better now?" he asked. She only groaned and closed her eyes, hating how her whole body ached, but grateful for the man who was holding her. "You wanna throw up again?" He stroked her head.

She shook her head against his torso, and he picked her back up. When he got back to the bed, he tucked her in and picked up the thermometer which he had dropped there in his haste to get her to the toilet. It read 102. Convinced that she wasn't in mortal danger, and considering she'd fallen asleep nearly before he'd put her in bed, he receded to her couch and began watching TV with the volume on low, determined to stay near her and take care of her until she recovered.

A few days later, when they returned to the office, Mulder's first assignment for them was to find out who had been lying to the Director.

"You don't believe this stuff about the Pizza Connection?" Scully asked.

"I really think someone was trying to prevent the Director from finding out about the X-Files, in case he decides to fund it or send more agents or something. They don't want me to have any more help than I already do."

"Mulder, I'd find it more believable that one of his sons was sick."

"Hmm, maybe. But I really think someone's trying to cover up what we've been working to uncover. Even from the FBI."

"The rumors are right, Mulder. You can find a conspiracy at a church picnic."

"This ain't no church picnic, Scully," he said, popping a sunflower seed into his mouth. I really do think they're trying to handicap this division as much as possible. After all, they've got me running it." He winked. Then, pointedly, "Then again, they sent you, Scully."

"And I nearly got sick all over the Director. I would have, if we hadn't had to meet with Skinner beforehand, and if the Director had actually come."

Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, maybe they made you sick in the hopes that you would make us look ridiculous."

"Mulder!" she objected.

He hung his head. "They didn't realize that I would have made us look ridiculous if I'd presented without you. Or maybe they did, and that's why they deflected the Director."

"Oh, Mulder," she sighed worriedly. "You can't possibly think that."

"I'm just really glad to have you back, Scully."

She looked up at him gratefully and gave him a quick hug before checking herself and moving away. Feeling self-conscious, he added, "and you smell a lot better now too."

Playfully, she picked up a stress ball which was on his desk, and threw it at him. He feigned hurt. "Come on, partner," she said, suddenly wanting to feel useful, "let's get to work."

**END**


End file.
